Underbelly
by colormetheworld
Summary: It is necessary to read Keys prior to this. This is a spin off three shot that I wrote to help me get the order of events right for Keys. Some of you who read that asked me more about Garrett and Grace Fairfield, so I spruced this up for you. Trigger Warning. Note the rating. Thanks.
1. Chapter 1

When she wakes up, he is the first thing she sees. That's the way he wanted it. He'd told Charlie at least six times in the car.

"When she wakes up, man, I want it to just be me and her. You can do whatever you have to do, okay? But later. I want her to see me first."

"If you say that again, asshole, this whole thing's off." Charlie has never raised his voice, never talked in anything other than a flat, monotone calm, but his annoyance now was clear anyway. "I already agreed."

"I'm just making sure," He said, the same way he'd said the first five times. There was something about Charlie that always made him feel like he was not completely in control. The boy was almost two full years his junior, but he made Garrett feel like a chump sometimes.

Most times.

"It's my house," he says, for the fourth time. "My rules."

Charlie smiles, but for some reason it makes his little kid's face look like a man's. It's a leering, jack-o-lantern smile.

"Your rules," he says quietly. "No problem."

So that's why it's just him and her in the room when she opens her eyes for the first time. Her cheekbone is already purpling from the blow he'd landed early that morning. The sight of it makes something like happiness glow in Garrett's chest for the first time in months. He can remember the way it felt to land it.

Charlie had wanted to go softer. He'd wanted to use something untraceable. Put it in her drink. Drag her off when no one is looking. Not that her parents were ever actually looking. Charlie had wanted no muss, and no fuss. _The real fun starts at the house, boy._ But Garrett had held firm, even when it was clear that the bitch was no slouch when it came to defending herself. He'd been determined to leave something on her that other people could see.

He'd wanted to leave his mark.

"Hi," he says, as she blinks at him. Her eyes clear and focus and if she's concussed, it's only minor. If she has a concussion, it is not enough to keep her from recognizing his face. She blinks at him, and she recognizes him.

And she is afraid.

Garrett is happy for the first time since the funeral. He can feel the smile stretching his lips, and he doesn't try to stop it.

"Hey, Jane."

…

…

 _For a long, long moment, all he does is stand and stare._

 _That's his sister in bed with another girl. And it is not 'in bed' the way she meant it three or four years ago, when her school friends would show up with their sleeping bags and cases of make-up. When they would giggle long into the night, and eventually all end up squished together in the big, queen sized bed._

 _No._

 _This is his baby sister with her leg wrapped around the other girl's waist, and her hands in dark brown hair, eyes closed and mouth gasping as she…as they..._

" _What the fuck!?"_

 _Grace screams. She yanks the covers up around her body, simultaneously shoving the dark haired girl away from her, and Garrett realizes she is topless._

" _Garrett," she yells. "What the hell?! Don't you know how to knock?" It is this indignation,_ _her_ _indignation at his apparent breech of her privacy that pushes him over the threshold into the room, his face still hot from the rush of seeing his little sister with no clothes on._

" _Who the fuck are you?" He yells at the stranger, who stands now on the other side of Grace's bed, close to the window._

 _She is not naked, but dressed in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and the muscles of her stomach and shoulders are defined._

" _Chill," she says, her voice deep, calm._

" _Don't tell me to fucking chill," Garrett is still yelling. He sees Grace pull a shirt over her head out of the corner of his eye. "I should knock you out for assaulting my sister."_

 _Is that what he thinks? The words are just there, on the tip of his tongue, and he realizes as he says them that they must be the truth. Grace would never, could never betray him in such a way. She is his sister. She adores him._

 _She knows better._

" _Woah," the girl's eyes go round. "I didn't assault your-"_

" _Get out, Garrett," Grace says harshly. She's pushing herself out of bed now, her t-shirt falling down past her thighs. "Get out of my room!"_

 _Garrett stares at her in disbelief. This is all so wrong. "Me?" his voice sounds screeching, even to his own ears. "You want_ _me_ _out?"_

" _Yes!" Grace shouts. She has tears in her eyes. "Get out! Jesus. Get out!"_

 _It's not until the door is slamming in his face that he realizes that the shirt his sister threw on is emblazoned with the Boston Red Sox Logo._

 _It doesn't belong to her._

Things that make Garrett happy, now that the only thing he cared about is gone:

The sound of Jane Rizzoli's palms as they hit the concrete of the basement in his Cape Cod Summer home, closed up for the winter.

The rough, raw sound her throat makes when she spits blood.

Telling her, over and over, that she is the reason his sister has died.

Watching her resist, and resist, and then finally, after nearly fourteen hours, to beg.

"You want me to stop?"

He only gets a nod in return.

"Bring Grace back. Then I'll fucking stop."

She doesn't answer, and he kicks her. It's not the hardest he can, or even the hardest he has previously, but she still makes a noise, hard and grunted through her teeth. It sets the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He loves it.

He waits until she's breathing somewhat evenly again, and then kneels down and pushes her hair away from her face so he can see her eyes. With her hands bound like that, she doesn't have any choice but to let him.

"I fucking hate you," he says, right up close to her ear. "I'm going to kill you for what you did to her."

Jane blinks slowly. "Feeling's mutual," she murmurs. "I'd have killed you first. If she'd have let me."

This catches him off guard, and he leans back abruptly, yanking her hair. "What?"

She turns her head to keep him in her sights. Black eye, split lip, split cheek. It doesn't make her look weak, he realizes. She doesn't look broken. On the contrary…she looks ferocious.

"I know what you did," she says evenly. "I wouldn't bring her back to you if I could. Not even if it meant she'd come back to me too. I wouldn't."

He doesn't remember too much after that, but the next time he looks at the clock, three hours have disappeared.

The only movement Jane makes is the quick rise and fall of her chest.

Still alive.

…

When he comes upstairs and into the kitchen, he finds Charlie at the breakfast bar, watching Comedy Central and drinking a glass of juice. He turns and looks at Garrett, and his eyes are alive with what looks like excitement.

"You kept her on the tarp, right?"

Garrett nods, feeling his earlier annoyance return. "Of course I did." Charlie doesn't answer, and Garrett's irritation turns quickly to apprehension. "Anyway. Your turn, dude," he says, and then, lamely, "have fun."

Charlie swigs the last of his drink and stands up. His smile this time is wider than Garrett has ever seen it. There is a bulge at the front of his pants, and Garrett tries to look elsewhere. If he does not acknowledge that he's seen it, then they might not have to talk about what it means.

But Charlie's full attention is on the closed door to the basement. He pats Garrett on the shoulder as he passes.

"We'll have a ball."

…

…

 _He's on his bed, thumbing through a magazine when she bursts through the door._

" _Hey," she yells at him, "stay out of my room, and stay away from my stuff!"_

 _Garrett sits up slowly, trying to fix his face into one of affronted confusion. "Excuse me?" he asks._

" _Don't play stupid, Garrett," Grace shakes her finger at him. "I know you've been going through my stuff. I know it was you who took the earrings she gave me. Those were important to me, you douchebag."_

 _Garrett shuts his magazine. "I haven't-" he begins, but Grace cuts him off. She is angrier at him than he can ever remember her being._

" _Don't lie to me! I know it's you. You've been stealing my letters from Jane."_

 _Garrett pushes up off his bed, noticing that when he stands, his sister falters a little bit. "So what if I have been?" he asks. "You really want to read the disgusting filth she writes you?"_

 _Grace colors, but she holds her ground. "It's not filth," she says angrily. "And they're not yours. They're_ _my_ _letters."_

" _What would mom and dad think if they knew that their baby girl was a dyke? Worse, that she'd fallen for trailer trash who writes love letters like dime store porn novels."_

 _Grace's eyes fill with tears, and Garrett feels his resolve weaken just a little bit. He reaches out for her, wanting to hug her, to feel her melt against him the way she used to when he comforted her after a bad day. He hates being the one who hurts her, who brings the harsh realities of life in to their safe little world. "Look," he starts, "G,"_

 _But she smacks his hand away, and turns on her heel. "I don't want to hear it," she says over her shoulder. "I don't care what Mom and Dad think. I don't care what_ _you_ _think. I'm not a kid, and I know what I want."_

 _Rage explodes inside of Garrett. He has grabbed her and pulled her back by the arm before he can register his movements._

" _Ow!" she cries._

" _You think you can just walk away from me?" he asks._

 _Grace looks at him. She is afraid, he registers confusedly. He is scaring her. "Garret!" she says. Fear. "Let go! You're hurting me."_

" _I get to say what you can and can't-"_

 _But then something slams into his side, and he is knocked off of his feet, to the floor. When he looks up, Jane is there._

 _Jane Rizzoli is in his house, in his_ _room_ _, and she has knocked him over. She stands between them now, inspecting Grace's arm intently._

" _You!" he says, pulling himself to his feet._

 _Jane lets Grace go so she can face him. She is nearly snarling. "You sick, fucking pervert," she growls. "I'm going to-"_

" _Jane," Grace says quickly. "Let's go."_

 _Jane's whole body freezes at Grace's command. She looks like she would rather do anything else in the world._

 _Garrett's mind is frozen too. It whirls and returns and whirls again over the same word._

 _Pervert._

 _Pervert._

 _You sick, fucking…_

 _You pervert._

" _I'm not just going to let him-"_

 _But Grace takes Jane's hand and pulls her away. "I'm fine," she insists. "I want to go. Please, can we go?"_

" _Yes," Jane says. Garrett might not even exist. Jane takes his sister's hand. She kisses his sister's knuckles. "Let's go."_

 _He watches them leave._

 _And then he follows them._

…

 _At the pool hall he tracks them to, he sits in the corner on the far side of the room, watching his sister as she eats pizza with Jane and three other kids that Garrett doesn't recognize, a black boy and two other girls, both with dark hair and tan skin. One of the girls tries constantly to attract Jane's attention, but it seems the brunette only has eyes for Grace._

 _His_ _Grace._

 _During a game of pool that involves more laughing than playing, Garrett watches in horror as his sister takes Jane's face in her hands and kisses her hard._

 _One of the girls and the boy wolf whistle._

 _The crowd around them cheers._

 _Garrett looks away in disgust._

" _Hi." A voice close by makes him look up._

 _A pale, thin boy is sliding into the booth across from him, holding out his hands as if to say, 'I'm not a threat to you.'_

" _What do you want?" Garrett snarls. He is not in the mood for company. "Can't you see I'm busy?"_

 _The boy's smile widens. He's younger than Garrett, but his confidence is noticeable. "Oh yeah," he says, as though Garrett has told a Joke. "I can definitely see that."_

 _He holds out his hand. "My name's Charlie Hoyt," he says, unperturbed that Garrett declines his handshake. "Can I buy you a soda?"_

…

At 3:19am the next morning, Garrett is jolted out of sleep by screaming.

No, not screaming, just one long, hoarse scream. Someone in pain.

He throws back the covers of his makeshift bed on the couch and sprints to the basement door without stopping to think. He pulls it open and peers down the stairs, trying to make out shapes in the dim light coming from around the corner.

If Jane has gotten free, and Charlie is hurt, barreling down the stairs to his own incapacitation isn't going to do anyone any good.

"Charlie?" he calls tentatively. "Are you still down there?"

There is silence for a beat, and then his companion's voice calls back to him, sounding cheerful and fully alert.

"Hey, Garrett, did Jane wake you? I'm sorry about that. Jane, you woke Garrett. Why don't you apologize."

Garrett descends three steps and then pauses. Charlie sounds almost manic with happiness. He sounds a little deranged.

"Is everything okay, man?" Garrett calls. "I heard…" but there aren't any words to accurately categorize the sound Jane had made. "I'm coming down," he calls instead. "Okay?"

The laugh that Charlie gives in response is almost like a giggle, but it does nothing to ease Garrett's nerves. "Okay!" he calls back. "Come on down. I'm presentable, and, well, there's nothing to be done about Jane."

Garrett descends the last couple stairs and rounds the corner to the small back room where they've been keeping their captive tied.

His stomach heaves at the sight.

Jane is still there, still bruised and still bloody, and now barely conscious. Her hands are up, above her head, and through the palm of each one, is a silver instrument that catches the light as Garret blinks.

"Holy fuck, man," he says around the urge to be sick. "Holy...fuck."

Charlie's smile is wide and excited. He looks, quite literally, like a kid at Christmas. "I know, right?" he says, taking Garrett's shock for awe. "Lookit this." he turns his head so that Garrett can see the scratches on his chin, three perfect nail marks. "She put up one fucking hell of a fight. Just like I totally thought she would."

"Jesus," Garrett says. "Are those...are those...scalpels?"

"Hell yeah!" Charlie looks high. He looks ecstatic. "You didn't tell me your dad was a doctor, man! He's got a shit ton of cool torture stuff down here."

Garrett shakes his head. He hasn't been able to look away from Jane. The happiness he'd felt earlier, the sense of justice, it all seems to be draining away from him. "Uh...no," he says, unable to think of any other retort. "My mom's a...she's a Pediatrician. She was, I mean. She left after she had Grace."

Charlie isn't listening. He moves back over to Jane and squats down beside her, brushing her hair out of her face. The gesture is tender. "Tell Garrett how much fun you had," he whispers to her.

Jane's mouth moves, but if she says anything, Garrett can't hear her.

It doesn't seem to phase Charlie. He goes on whispering to her, almost as if Garrett isn't there.

After watching for about five more minutes, Garrett turns and heads back upstairs.

In the kitchen, Garrett opens the fridge, but he doesn't make a move to retrieve anything. He just stares in at the few provisions he and Charlie had carried with them. He is thinking about Grace, two days before he'd told his parents about her secret girlfriend. He is thinking about how she'd looked, sitting in the window seat in her room, keeping watch for Jane.

She didn't even turn around when he'd come in. When he'd said her name, she'd made a motion with her shoulders, like she was brushing off a fly.

Charlie appears in the doorway, shirt askew, looking tired but happy. "All yours!" he says.

Garrett feels irrational anger at this boy. It is his fault that this plan is souring. It is his fault that all the beautiful vengeance is being sucked from the day.

"Thanks," he says, not looking around from the fridge. He tries to remember the way Grace looked the last time he saw her. Really truly saw her and not just a lump under the covers. Not just a silhouette in the darkness of her bedroom.

"I'm gonna get some shut eye," Charlie doesn't notice Garrett's malaise. Or rather, if he notices, he does not comment. "Big day tomorrow."

Garrett doesn't bother to answer.

When he finally shuts the door to the fridge and straightens up, he is alone in the kitchen in the light of the predawn.

…

Jane is still pinned to the basement floor when he rounds the corner. The first time he'd seen her there, almost two days ago now, the overwhelming emotion had been one of elation. Now, it is just disgust.

He is disgusted by her.

He holds his breath as he nears her, and he kneels down and reaches out to pull the scalpels from her hands. She makes a sound like a kicked dog when he does, and his disgust is replaced fleetingly by pity.

"It hurts," she whimpers. "It hurts."

Garrett isn't sure whether she's talking about her hands or the numerous other injuries she's sustained. Charlie has pulled her ruined jeans back up onto her hips, and the long sleeve t-shirt they took her in has lost most of the left sleeve.

Garrett can see a scattering of little cuts along the girl's neck, disappearing into her collar.

The pity is replaced by disgust again. He wants to kill her.

He wants to kill her and be done with it. But first…

"Say you're sorry," he sneers, kneeling down beside her again. "Say you're sorry for what you did to my sister."

Jane's eyes are out of focus when she looks up at his voice. He watches her lick her lips in preparation, and feels some of the old excitement return. _This_ is the reason he took her.

For Grace. Not for Charlie Hoyt.

"Say you're sorry," he prompts again.

Jane blinks heavily.

"No."

…...

… _..._

 _Grace stays in her bed for four days. The maid brings her trays of food and then takes them away, untouched._

 _Malcolm and Felicia put a guard outside the window that Jane uses to sneak in. They tell Grace she is not to leave the house without an escort._

 _Grace stays in bed._

 _Garrett tells his parents that she should be sent somewhere. He tells them that Jane is still finding a way to reach her. He tells them he heard the two of them last night, that he pressed his ear to her door and heard them whispering._

 _Heard when they went silent._

 _Malcolm and Felicia tell him that he is Grace's brother, not her father. They tell him to let them handle it. They know what's best for their daughter._

 _Garrett seethes with rage. He dreams at night about running Jane down in his car._

 _He dreams that Grace comes to him in the night and tells him she was wrong._

 _He tells only one person about these dreams._

 _Charlie Hoyt._

 _Hoyt absolutely eats it up._

…

"Say you're sorry."

Jane's breathing is shallow. She hunches her shoulders. She shakes her head.

He doesn't have any real desire to kick her again, but he does. On principle.

"Say you're sorry for killing my sister, or I swear to God…"

Jane coughs. "I'm not sorry. I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone in the entire world."

"I did!" Garrett answers angrily. " _I_ loved her."

Jane looks up at him, she heaves a breath, and makes sure that each word is clear.

"But she loved me back."

* * *

 **Three chapters.  
** **Three days.  
** **Let's hit it.**


	2. Chapter 2

_In the end, it's Charlie's fault that she escapes. He gets careless. He thinks that he's succeeded in breaking her._

 _He is wrong._

 _He doesn't tie her up when he goes for a pee, and when he comes back, she's not there, and the lone basement window is broken._

 _Garrett remembers the next several hours in frantic, technicolor bursts. Every sentence he and Charlie throw at each other is laced with curse words._

" _Get in the fucking car!"_

" _She was half - fucking - dead! Where the fuck could she have gone!"_

" _I don't know why you didn't just fucking kill her and get it over with. It's been God damn DAYS since we took her."_

" _I needed her to...I was going to get her to...It doesn't fucking matter now. GET IN THE FUCKING CAR."_

 _The Fairfield's summer home is situated on a thin strip of private beach that runs into a public launch site about a quarter mile to the south. If Jane made it that far, she could find people._

 _People who would help her._

 _Garrett presses on the gas a little harder, scanning his side of the road for anyone who even resembles Jane. He is just beginning to think that they've gone in the wrong direction, that maybe Jane went North, towards the woods and rocks instead, when Charlie gives a yell._

" _There!"_

 _Garrett turns to see where he's pointing and realizes that he's right. That is Jane, walking along the beach with an eerie sort of calm, eyes trained ahead of her as though with a very distinct purpose and destination._

 _Garrett pulls the car over, feeling his chest flood with relief. They've found her before anyone else has. Everything is going to be okay._

" _Fuck," he breathes, pulling the keys from the ignition and popping his car door open. "Fuck, I might not even wait til we get back to the house to finish this chick."_

 _Charlie starts to laugh, but the sound gets caught in his throat. Garrett looks around at him, to ask what is wrong, but he doesn't have to._

 _There is a man running towards Jane. He's calling out to her repeatedly, but she doesn't seem to hear him. Garrett and Charlie stand side by side, watching as the man gains on their victim, finally overtaking her and placing a hand on her shoulder._

 _Garrett watches, horror struck, as Jane tries to get away from him, lashes out at him...and he sees her ruined clothing, the cuts all over her shoulders._

 _Her hands._

 _There is nothing to do. There is nothing either of them can do but watch as this stranger takes his cell phone out of his pocket with one hand, the other firmly wrapped around Jane's upper arm. They watch as Jane collapses, finally losing consciousness, and the stranger, this...kind, fucking, knight in shining armor guides her gently to the sand, kneeling with her, supporting._

" _Who the hell walks the beach in the middle of January?" Charlie says darkly. He glances at Garrett. "We gotta get moving, champ."_

 _Garrett flinches. He hates it when Charlie calls him something a father would call him. And even if he wanted to move at that moment, he wouldn't be able to do it. He is too busy watching as the man with Jane hangs up the phone and bends to say something to the unconscious girl in his lap._

 _Maybe she'll die before the ambulances arrive._

 _Maybe when she wakes up, she won't remember who took her._

 _Maybe he'll just explain. Maybe he'll just say to the police, to the jury...to the papers if he has to._

" _What you don't understand is that Grace was so important to me." He'll have tears in his eyes as he's speaking. Some of the reporters might be moved to cry along with him. "What you have to know about her is that she was special. She was so...fucking special. And when that...when that girl came along. It was like she was tarnishing something permanently. Grace was my-_

" _Hey! Fucking earth to Garrett!" Charlie is shaking his arm. Yanking at it._

" _What?" Garrett shakes himself, and finds that he is looking at the arrival of an ambulance and two police cars. "Shit," he swears._

" _Yeah right, shit," Charlie agrees. "Can you stop daydreaming about the brains you didn't get to bash in, and can we get the hell out of here?"_

 _Garrett doesn't need to be told again._

He's crossing the quad, fully engrossed in the okcupid app, when he hears a sound the stops him dead in his tracks. He looks up, thinking he must be mistaken, thinking that he is misremembering the sound after so many years, and what he sees will turn out to be some little freshman running after her boyfriend, or a child laughing up at his mother as they hurry down the street.

But he is not wrong.

There, crossing the quad not twenty feet from him, is Jane Rizzoli. Garrett stares at her, his mouth open, and as he watches, she looks down at her companion, and she does the thing again. She makes the sound he thought he'd extinguished for good.

She laughs.

For nearly a full minute, Garrett stands perfectly still, watching the pair's retreating backs and trying to reconcile what he has seen with the detonation of emotions inside his body.

How could that girl be here? How could she be that close to him and not be able to smell the hatred radiating off of him in waves?

Suddenly he is moving, following them towards the highrise freshman dorm, unsure of anything except the desire to keep that dark head in his sights. He watches as they approach the front door of the building, and when Jane pulls the door open for her shorter companion, letting her go in first, he is aware that he makes a noise somewhere between a strangled cough and a growl. She is looking at that younger blonde girl with the same look that she used to use on Grace. She hasn't learned anything at all.

This is what he gets for not keeping tabs on Jane Rizzoli. She appears out of nowhere and upends his perfectly ordered, restructured life.

She splinters it in half.

Garrett stares for a bit longer at the entrance to the freshman dorm, trying to fight the rising tide of helplessness he feels. He fumbles in his pocket for his cellphone, trying to keep his breathing even, trying to remember all of the things he's been taught. He finally tears his eyes away from the building in order to dial the number he knows by heart.

It rings twice, and then the woman picks up, saying his name in her calm, neutral voice.

Garrett feels better instantly.

…

…

" _Do you know why you're here?"_

 _Garrett shifts uncomfortably in the big armchair, not making eye contact. "Because I'm not in prison," he says sarcastically._

 _The doctor looks back at him, unmoved. "That's actually partly correct," she says, with a curt nod. "The court may have found you not guilty, Mr. Fairfield, but I believe that all of this goes much deeper than what was revealed in that trial."_

 _Garrett makes an irritated movement with his shoulders. He blinks, and on the backs of his eyelids he sees Jane, unmoving on his basement floor. He blinks again and there is Charlie Hoyt, being led away in handcuffs, looking back at Garrett over his shoulder._

" _Do you know why you didn't go to prison, Mr. Fairfield?"_

 _Garrett feels his lip curling of its own accord. That is a trick question. It must be. But the doctor continues to watch him, and it is impossible to tell what she is thinking._

 _Fuck it, Garrett thinks. Just fuck it all. "I'm not in prison because my parents bought my way out of it."_

 _This does not seem to surprise the doctor. "How?" she asks simply._

" _They paid off the girl. They gave her family a huge sum. And she didn't show."_

" _And then, your lawyers pinned the kidnapping on Charles Hoyt. Is that correct?"_

 _Garrett blinks at her, wondering how she knows all of this, but beyond really caring. "Yeah," he says dully. "Charlie got the blame."_

" _Because your parents' money made it so."_

 _Garrett feels himself sneer again. "Because they made it so," he repeats._

 _The doctor leans back in her seat for a moment. For the first time since his arrival, her expression changes. Garrett has the impression that he is being studied, sized up. He has the feeling that this woman is determining whether or not he is worthy of what she has to offer._

 _He finds himself hoping that he is._

" _Do you know what else your parents bought, Mr. Fairfield?"_

 _Garrett shrugs._

" _Me," the doctor says softly. "Your parents have paid me to evaluate you. To see if they did the correct thing by keeping their son out of lock up. They are waiting for me to tell them whether or not you are a sociopath. Whether or not you inflicted even half of Jane Rizzoli's injuries. You flinch, when I say her name. Why?"_

 _Garrett had not been aware that he'd moved at all. The easy frankness of her confession was making him lightheaded. He lifts his hands up off of his lap, and then drops them back down, hopeless._

" _You don't know?" The doctor presses, "or you're afraid to share with me?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Do you hate her?"_

" _Yes," Garrett answers without hesitation._

" _Are you sorry?"_

" _Yes," Garrett says, and again he doesn't hesitate._

 _The doctor pauses. She taps her pen against the pad of paper idly, examining him again. She leans forward. "Would you do it again?" she asks._

 _Garrett doesn't have to think about the answer. "Yes."_

…

…

Dr. Baumann is his greatest lifeline. She is the thing that pulls him back to reality time and time again. It is because of her that he went back to Juilliard in the spring of his Junior year, fragile, but not completely broken.

She is the reason he stopped trailing Jane Rizzoli around the city.

She is the reason he stopped having the dreams, the reason he stopped writing to Charlie Hoyt in Prison. The reason he started dating again.

Now, the doctor talks him down over the phone, her voice just as calm and as comforting as it's always been.

"What was she doing?" Dr. Baumann asks. "Garrett, don't tell me what you _think_ you saw. Tell me what Jane was really doing."

Garrett tries to think back. "Um...she was...she was walking across the quad with a girl. She laughed." The memory of Jane laughing springs back into his mind, setting off a domino line of thoughts that all end in fury.

"She was _fucking laughing,"_ he says, a little louder now. "Like she didn't have a care in the world. And with another girl! I would never have gotten over Grace that fast. I'm not-" he stops himself abruptly, breathing hard. He realizes that Dr. Baumann has been saying his name repeatedly. She is not raising her voice, and she doesn't sound concerned, but her voice is firm and unwavering on the other end of the line.

"Do you remember what I told you about your relationship with your sister?" she asks when she is sure she has his attention.

Garrett shuts his eyes. "Yes," he answers, though he can't bring himself to say it.

Dr. Baumann doesn't make him. She changes course. "You knew she was coming. We talked about it this Summer. You knew her hands had healed enough that she'd be able to return if she wanted to."

Garrett nods, and then remembers that she can't see him. "Yeah," he mumbles.

"What is your rage level?" Dr. Baumann asks.

"Seven," he says. "Maybe eight."

"Can we bring it down? What can you do that will distract you from the idea that Jane is mocking you?" Dr. Baumann takes a breath. "Garrett? That idea that Jane is mocking you? That is an _incorrect_ idea. Do you understand?"

Garrett takes a deep breath. "I understand," he says.

"Jane has never been mocking you."

"She stole-"

"There was nothing to steal," Dr. Baumann says firmly. And every time she says it, it is as though it is the first time he's heard it. The doctor never sounds like she is tired of repeating herself. She never sounds as though she would judge him for his feelings.

"Garrett."

"I'm here."

"Are you?"

He breathes again. "Yes."

"Listen to me very carefully, then," she says, and when he doesn't answer, she continues. "We knew that this would be a difficult thing. We knew that there was the possibility of seeing her again. Of feeling some of the things you felt when you took her. But we also now know how to control them. We now know the very limits of your control, and we know that those boundaries have gotten smaller since the death of your sister."

"She killed-"

"Grace killed herself, Garrett. And when we are face to face, in a session, you are able to admit to me why you think that is."

Tears burn the backs of Garrett's eyes. No one but this doctor could get away with talking to him like this.

His doctor.

"You are a very talented, very intelligent, very wealthy young man," Dr. Baumann continues. "But you have pushed all three of those virtues nearly as far as they can go. Do not continue to test them."

One more deep breath. "I understand," Garrett says. "I get it."

"Shall we keep talking then?"

Garrett turns away from the freshman dorm, obediently trying to think of something that will distract him from this unfortunate incident. "No," he says. "No. I'm fine."

"Answer the big three," Dr. Baumann says. It is the way they end every session. Garrett has come to find some comfort in the routine.

"Ask them," he says, as usual.

"Do you hate her?"

"Yes."

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes. Today I am. Yes."

"Would you do it again?"

Garrett doesn't even have to consider. He nods, though he knows the doctor can't see him.

"Yes."

…

…

 _He stays in the back of the car when they pull into the parking lot. His mother and father in the front seat, they keep trading dark looks as the sun sinks lower and lower._

" _You said five?"_

" _He gets off work at five. Give him time to get here."_

 _Garrett doesn't ask what they are doing or who they are talking about. He has given up talking to his parents about anything at all since the investigation started. When he does try to talk to them they tell him they don't want to know._

" _Jesus, Garrett, isn't it enough, son?" That is what his father says, no matter the topic. His mother does not say much of anything. Usually, when Garrett speaks to her, she wells up before he can even finish the sentence. The one time he'd pressed on, trying to explain how he'd done what he'd done for Grace, his mother had looked at him with wide, tearful eyes._

" _For_ _your sister!" she'd yelled. "For Grace?"_

 _And then she'd burst into tears._

 _So now he just does what they tell him. They told him to get in the car, so he did. He did not ask any questions._

 _The grey pick-up that pulls up next to the Fairfields Bentley is missing a muffler. It rumbles to a stop in the fading light, and the man who climbs out is immediately recognizable._

" _Father?" Garrett is too alarmed to hold to his 'no questions' rule. "What is Frank Rizzoli doing here?"_

 _His father turns all the way around in his seat to point a finger at his son._

" _You stay here, and you keep your mouth shut, do you understand? We're doing this for your God damned future, or what's left of it. You don't screw this up."_

 _Garrett pushes back against the seat, folding his arms, biting back the curse words he'd like to unleash on his father._

 _His mother doesn't look around at him at all._

 _He watches as both his parents pull on matching pairs of fur lined leather gloves. His mother reaches between her legs and pulls out a small traveling suitcase. Garrett recognizes it as the one his mother had won at the last silent auction she'd attended with her daughter._

 _His parents share one last dark look before they get out of the car._

…

…

It goes wrong.

Garrett returns to his room, still trying to follow Dr. Baumann's order. He is to distract himself.

He needs to distract himself.

He'd told the doctor that his rage was a seven, eight at the worst, but as he looks around his room, he can feel it rising like mercury, obscuring every mantra he'd ever sought to teach himself.

He sits down at his desk, and balls his fists on the surface, casting his eyes around for something to take his mind off of Jane Rizzoli's smile. He's almost given it up as a lost cause when the edge of a piece of paper sticking out from under his bed catches his eye.

Garrett leans over and slides what turns out to be a greeting card from under his bed. It is from his father. The only piece of mail he has received from home since beginning his senior year.

 _Congratulations on Senior Showcase. We received your announcement, but will have to send our regrets as work here has gotten rather busy just before the Holiday._

 _Your mother sends her regards._

 _M.F._

"Yeah. Motherfucker," Garrett mumbles. But down below this note, he catches sight of a hastily scrawled postscript that he hadn't noticed before, too caught up in the disappointment and hurt of being discarded by his own parents.

 _P.S. My former business partner's daughter, Maura Isles, has begun her freshman year at Juilliard. She is also a dance major, and from what Richard tells me, quite talented. Please call on her to wish her well at your earliest convenience._

There it is! His distraction!

Garrett throws down the card, feeling triumphant. Dr. Baumann was right, all he needed was something to take his mind off of fucking Jane Rizzoli and her fucking laugh in the middle of the quad.

Garrett leaves his room. He jogs down the stairs and out into the Quad, heading for the cafeteria where he knows a lot of freshman eat.

When he gets there, he asks a sour looking freshman dancer if she can point out Maura Isles.

The girl makes a face like she's just sucked a lemon. "Why is everyone so _obsessed_ with Ms. Perfect," the girl says. She points to a table. "She's over there. In the social reject bin."

And Garrett looks where she's pointing. And he sees just _who_ is at the table with Distraction Maura Isles.

And it goes wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for being patient, friends. I got a fair amount of hate for this piece, and I wasn't sure about continuing. Please be warned that although this does have a happy ending, all the trigger warnings do still apply.**

 **tc**

 **...**

 **...**

* * *

 _He thinks that maybe he shouldn't go any further, but he does._

 _Underneath him, she wakes up. She makes a sound, still half dreaming, still unaware. He pulls back a little to watch her eyes open._

 _It's the thing he likes the best, when her eyes open and focus on him. He's the only thing in the whole world then._

 _She makes him the only thing in the world._

" _Stop," she says, her voice is so small in the darkness that he can pretend he hasn't heard it. He takes her hand and presses it against his chest so she can feel his heart, how hard it's beating against his ribs._

 _Only for her._

" _Stop," she says again, a little louder. But he pulls her hand downwards, and he's so much stronger than she is that he could break her wrist if she resisted._

 _The thought makes him harder, makes him nearly breathless at the thought._

 _She is fifteen._

 _She is his._

" _Garrett," she says, and he wants to press his lips to her tears. He does. Let her try to stop him. "Garrett," she says again, plaintive. "Please."_

 _She's so small, so small and his, and when she tries to pull her hand out of his, he tightens his grip fast and she yelps and God…_

 _It's fucking hot._

…

There is already someone at his sister's grave. He blinks a couple of times to make sure that she's a real person, and when she doesn't shimmer at the sides or fade like even his most vivid hallucinations, he approaches her cautiously.

"Hello," he calls when he is close enough for her to hear him. She turns to look at him, and he stops walking abruptly.

She is just a child, thirteen or fourteen years old, with long legs and blonde hair and deep, lovely green brown eyes. She is wearing a winter coat, last year's, Garrett thinks to himself. It is purple, puffy, and childish. When the other girl's at school see it, they will make fun of it, and she will go home and ask for a new one.

Garrett wonders if her parents will acquiesce.

"What's your name?" he calls to her, though he already knows. There is no other name for this girl to possess. There is no other reason for her to be standing at that gravestone.

She looks back at him, unafraid, and shoves her hands into her pockets.

"Grace," she says.

Garrett only nods.

…

 _He follows them to the park._

 _She's steadier on her feet than the last time he saw her, but if he were just the odd passerby, he would think that the man was her boyfriend. He keeps a protective arm around her shoulder. He turns his head to talk into her ear sometimes._

 _At the Starbucks, the man reaches forward to push some hair behind her ear and smile into her face, but she jerks away from him, breathing hard, shaking her head when he tries to reach out for her. They almost cause a scene. Garrett watches, nearly gleeful, as she stands with her hands out. He watches her jaw working with the effort not to scream._

 _But that_ _man_ _. He stands near enough to talk softly to her, without touching. He stays completely calm, and when a woman steps closer, to ask if she is okay, the man holds his hand out, and Garrett sees clearly when his mouth says the words "panic attack."_

" _And she was already calming down anyway," he tells Dr. Baumann at his appointment that afternoon. He'd left Jane and David safely ensconced in Dave's apartment on the lower east side in order to dash uptown to her office. She frowns as he recounts his day's activities._

" _He bought her something there, at the Starbucks, something with whipped cream. And he sat so close to her…The woman, the one who asked if she was okay? I heard her tell her friend as they were leaving that she wished she had a boyfriend who was so attentive to her needs."_

 _Garrett takes a deep breath, and goes to continue, but Dr. Baumann cuts him off smoothly. Her sharp blue eyes do not leave his face, and today they glint with something other than their normal curiosity._

" _I think, Garrett," she says, "Now that you are back at school, and excelling, might I add, that it is time we begin working on your fixation with Jane Rizzoli."_

" _It isn't a fixation."_

 _The doctor looks amused. "What would you call it?"_

" _It's…it's just a…I just have to make sure that she's not…I have to make sure that she's still…"_

" _Miserable?" Dr. Baumann suggests._

" _Fine. Yes," he says, trying for defiance. "She's like, fucking better every day. What if she can use her hands again? What if she really comes back to school? My asshole of a father gave her enough money to do whatever she wants, but I get barely a dime."_

 _This little diatribe makes the doctor lean forward a little in her seat. "Malcolm has cut your allowance off?" she asks, interested._

" _Well, no," Garrett concedes. "But he-"_

" _Have you given any thought to sexual intimacy, Garrett?"_

 _This jump in topics catches him off guard, and he sputters. "What?"_

 _Dr. Baumann doesn't blink. "I think that it's possible that your obsession with Jane is stemming, at least partly, from the sexual relationship that she had with your sister."_

" _Hey," Garrett says, feeling that sick squirm in his stomach that usually happens when someone comes too close to that certain part of him. "Charlie was the one who…you know…did that to her. Not me."_

" _I'm not suggesting that you want a sexual relationship with Jane Rizzoli, violent or otherwise," Dr. Baumann says. "I'm suggesting that you feel such an extreme level of wrath towards her because she blocked a previously open path to the object of your desire."_

 _Garrett stares at her. He doesn't know what to say._

" _I'm asking what you have done, since the death of your sister, to relieve your built up sexual frustration."_

" _You mean have I had sex with anyone?"_

" _Yes, or have you sexually assaulted anyone since your return to the city."_

" _No!" Garrett's hands are slick with sweat, but he can't take the chance of wiping them on his jeans and confirming his guilt. "I mean…don't you have to report that stuff to the police…I mean, if I told you anything like that?"_

 _Dr. Baumann frowns. She stares at Garrett for a long while, clearly doing some sort of psychiatrist mathematics that he can't understand. Finally, she takes her glasses off, and sets her pen aside._

" _Garrett," she says slowly, "Do you remember our first meeting?" Garrett nods dumbly, and Dr. Baumann mimics the movement._

" _Yes," she says, "so you remember when I told you that your parents purchased you something other than your freedom?"_

 _Garrett nods again, trying to see where she is going with this walk down memory lane._

" _Yes," Dr. Baumann says again. "I told you that your parents purchased me, Garrett. That means I have no other clients. That means I have no other obligations. That means I have no other_ _job_ _than to make sure that you do not repeat the actions of your past. Do you understand?"_

 _Garrett opens his mouth to respond that no, he didn't before._

 _But now, he is beginning to._

….

…

"I'm named after her, you know," Grace says conversationally.

"Oh yeah?" Garrett pretends to look mildly surprised. "You knew her?"

"No," Grace says. "Did you?"

He can practically hear Dr. Baumann's voice in his head, from happier times.

"Yes. I just…" He swallows. "I just came to say good-bye."

The new Grace nods, as though this is the answer she was expecting to hear. "Took you awhile to get here," she says, and his head snaps around to look at her sharply.

"What did you say?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I said it took you awhile to get here," she repeats, enunciating the words a bit more clearly. When he still looks confused, she gestures to the headstone. "She died like, thirty years ago."

Garrett bristles a bit at this. "I didn't come to say goodbye to her like _that,_ " he says harshly. The girl doesn't flinch away from him the way other girls have. She will not scare as easily, it seems, and this makes him want to try a little harder. For a moment, he imagines the delicate bones in her wrist. How easily they might snap if she started fighting.

But then, the girl smiles. As Garrett watches, she smiles and then starts to chuckle softly, and almost all of his anger dissipates.

"What's so funny?"

The girl shrugs. "It's…kind of a long story."

Garrett pauses long enough to listen to the backdrop of the city behind them. "I've got time," he decides.

New Grace, this different, future Grace, with such beautiful eyes that she did not inherit from his sister, she turns to look at him now. She examines him, as though suddenly aware that she is alone with a strange man in the middle of an empty cemetery.

 _Yes, little girl_ , he thinks to himself. _You should be afraid of me on any other day. Any other day but this._

"I've got time," he says, repeating. "I will have to go eventually…but…"

New and different Grace pulls her hand from her pocket to run it through her long hair. "Well okay, but if you have to go, just say. Or if I'm like…boring you."

"Deal," he says easily.

…

….

" _What?" She says. And she props herself up on her elbow to look at him. This is the way he likes her the best' post intercourse, her red hair a little bed crazy._

" _What do you mean?" she asks now, "We'll have to work something out."_

 _Garrett is still lying on his back on the sheets, regaining his breath. "I mean now that Malcolm is gone," he says. This should be obvious. "He left me everything, in the end. And though I'm sure there won't be a problem, the execution will probably take some time."_

 _He looks at the doctor, but she still seems baffled, so he continues. "I…mean. The payments will have to stop," he explains. "But only for a bit, and then of course I'll back pay you. With interest if you, uh, if you like."_

 _Garrett stares at the doctor as she laughs. "Dr. Baumann?" he asks. "What's funny?"_

 _The doctor gasps for breath as she tries to answer him. She stretches out her arm to brace herself on his bicep. "Oh," she says, when she's finally regained some control. "Oh, you arrogant, amazing, stupid, little_ _boy_ _!" she crows. "You think your father has gone on paying me all this time?"_

….

…

"So anyway," Grace is saying. "I found all these pictures of my ma with this other girl. Like a previous girlfriend, you know? Which is…whatever, it's fine. But when I ask my mom about it, she tells me all soft that that's Grace. That I was named after her."

It takes Garrett a lot of control that he didn't know he had not to just reach out and wrap one hand around this girl's throat. He listens with half an ear as she talks, contemplating what her windpipe might do under his palm. Surely she would be easier to kill than, say, a doctor.

"I freaked out," Grace says, sounding ashamed. "Ma got home, and I totally freaked out on both of them. I said I thought it was totally fucked up that they named me after a dead girl. I said it was shitty of Ma to ask Mom to let her, you know? I was so mad it was like I was seeing only red."

"I know the feeling," Garrett says, distracted.

…

…

 _Garrett cannot stop staring at her. She stands at the foot of the bed, looking back at him like he is some sort of science experiment gone wrong._

" _M-my dad doesn't pay you?" He asks, sitting up against the headboard._

 _She shakes her head, smile still on her face. He thinks it looks condescending. "Your father hasn't paid me since we started sleeping together," she says easily. "Surely you knew that."_

 _He didn't. He looks at her, dumbfounded, and she can read the answer in his face._

" _Remarkable," she says._

" _Don't talk about me like I'm a specimen," he says, irritable. He doesn't know why this new revelation makes him feel so uncomfortable. It should make him happy. This means the doctor has been staying with him because she_ _wants_ _to. It should make him happy. And yet…_

" _You are as specimen," she says casually, turning her back on him to reach for a robe. "You're, well, there's no other way to say it, remarkable." The way she uses that word does not suggest it is a compliment. "I simply underestimated the depth of your fantasies."_

" _My what?" he sits up, irritability moving towards real anger now. "Sleeping with you isn't a fantasy," he says roughly, wondering even as he says it if this is the truth._

" _Of course it isn't,' she says. "But your belief that you have me in your pocket is."_

" _Have you in my…" Garrett begins._

 _Dr. Baumann turn to face him, and her expression is harder. Her smile is more like a sneer. "Little boy," she says. "Do I have to lay it out for you? Do I have to tell you how appalled, how disgusted your parents were when I told them what you are? What you'll always be?"_

 _The palms of Garrett's hands and the backs of his knees have gone slick with sweat. He looks back at the woman in front of her, rage and disbelief boiling inside of him._

" _Honest to God, I thought Malcolm would kill you himself. And when Felicia heard there were others?" She shakes her head. Garrett's sweat turns to ice. "Well, they wanted nothing to do with you, and certainly nothing to do with me."_

" _But you kept seeing me."_

 _Dr. Baumann nods. "Eventually," she says in the same casual voice, "You are going to make me famous."_

…

…...

"Mama apologized. She said she'd call me Constance if I wanted her to. She said she loved me, and she loved mommy and James and Asher, and she'd never intentionally do anything to hurt me." Grace looks over at Garrett to see if he is still listening, and he has to jump his eyes up to her face quickly, so she doesn't catch him staring at her trachea.

"Mommy came and found me though, in my room later on. She said my name was

Grace, and she wouldn't call me anything else. Then she told me the story of this Grace."

"What's that story?"

"This Grace saved my mother," the girl replies, turning her attention back to the headstone. "She was just a kid when she died, a little older than me.

"How did she die?" Garrett asks.  
New Grace. _Jane's_ Grace looks at him like he's crazy. Like he should definitely already know.

"Her brother killed her."

…

…

" _I didn't do anything wrong," Garrett says, and his lover, his psychiatrist, she laughs. She throws her head back and laughs hard._

" _You snuck into her room, nearly every night, and you raped her," Dr. Baumann says, as though she's discussing the weather. "You think I don't know? You think it doesn't radiate off you like cologne. You think someone who doesn't have inappropriate sexual relations with his sister just kidnaps and tortures her girlfriend for no reason?"_

" _Jane_ _killed_ _Grace!" Garrett yells, "She made it so it was impossible for my sister to live!"_

" _YOU_ _made it impossible for her to live," Dr. Baumann says, sobering. "You took away her childhood, and then you took away her freedom, and then you took away her savior. You deluded yourself into believing that you were the victim in all of it. You let a rapist with a fetish for brunette's take the fall for you…" Dr. Baumann's eyes glint at him from the foot of the bed. She is watching the effect her words have on him, gauging him, analyzing him. "You let Hoyt take the fall," she repeats. "And then you went right on hunting."_

…

…

Stupid girl. She should have been afraid of him from the beginning. Forget the high that came from wrapping his fingers around his former Psychiatrist's throat. They don't compare to this moment, now, watching reborn Grace's beautiful eyes go wide and horror struck as he lunges.

"I'll tell you the truth," he says to her, pressing her down, back into the bench, loving the way her throat bobs under his palms. "I'll tell you the truth."

"I went into her room on the sixteenth day. It was so dark, I could only see her outline in the bed. She hadn't eaten for days, you know? That's how much she missed your mother. She hadn't eaten for days, and so she couldn't even put up much of a fight."

This tiny, almost Maura looking Grace, she struggles to speak, but he presses harder, and she cannot.

"It still felt so good. It still felt so right, being inside her. And she's crying. She always used to cry...sort of the way you are now. She's crying, and that's not new, but this time, she put her head against my chest and she begged for my help."

Garrett can see her. He can see it all there in front of him like it was yesterday.

"She begged for your mother. She said she'd do anything. _Anything_. If I'd just help her be with Jane again."

Little Grace's lips are blue. She looks up at him. Such wide, wide eyes. Her hands around his wrist are getting weaker. "And in the morning," he says, leaning down so he can whisper.

"In the morning, after I'd promised. After she did everything I told her to, and I promised. I went into her room, new Grace. I went in and I sat down next to her on the bed. And do you know what I said?"

He loosens his hands just a little bit, and the child's eyes flutter. She rasps one deep breath, fighting.

"I told her Jane would never, ever want her. Not after that. Not after what she'd done."

The hands around his wrist regain some strength, which is his cue to press again. This is an artform that he has mastered. She goes, when he says.

In the distance, in his subconscious, he recognizes one sound, and then two. But he pushes both of them away, focused entirely on his goal.

He leans down to press a kiss to the corner of Grace's eye, where a tear is forming. "I told her she was mine," he whispers. "It didn't matter what she wanted. There was no escape."

…

…

 _There is more blood than he anticipated, so this is the end of the road._

 _He picks the doctor up and puts her on the bed. Her head lolls to the side at an awkward angle, no matter how he tries to position it._

 _He gives up._

 _He paid for the room, for the room service, for the X-rated movie last night, and the hot stone massage this morning._

 _His fingerprints are all over the room, all over the champagne bottle shattered by the foot of the bed...All over the doctor's body._

 _He dresses, undresses, showers and re-dresses._

 _He leaves everything behind in the room, including the keycard, and on his way out the door, he looks back at her._

 _Her expression is one of open disdain. A scoff cut short is still in her throat, he is sure._

" _Have fun being famous," he says, and he pulls the door shut behind him._

…

…

"Grace. Grace. Honey, wake up, baby please."

The sirens are blaring, growing louder and louder with each passing second.

Garrett lays on the ground where he has fallen, and watches through his blurry, sideways vision as an older, fiercer, mother looking Jane resuscitates his almost victim.

Maura, how lovely she still is, has her hands over her mouth. She is ashen faced, tear streaked. She has her eyes on her wife. Behind her hands, Garrett is sure she is saying Jane's name.

Quietly. Repeatedly.

Another, harder kick, is delivered to his crotch, and the world dims and darkens for a moment. He hears someone call "Asher! That's enough!" and when his vision clears a bit, he can see Fucking Hero Dave, his arm tight around a boy so brunette and angled, there can be no denying who he is.

Red washes over his eyes, and for a second, he is sure it is death. But no. Just a cop car.

Just the rumbling of an ambulance.

Just the coughing and the sputtering of a little girl as she gasps back into existence, crying, "Mama! Mommy! M-mama!" until they tell her to hush, or until her face is buried in the pianist's winter jacket.

"Garrett Fairfield, you are under arrest for the murder of Angelique Baumann. You have the right to remain silent."

One last picture, as he is hauled to his feet, the useless one that Fucking Hero Dave stomped to oblivion dragging behind him.

A picture of a family huddled on a bench. All holding onto each other. The twin boys, they look up as the police drag him away. Maura Isles (time has been so kind to her, hasn't it), she looks around too. She watches them stuff him into the car without any regard for the useless foot.

Jane and Grace are at the center. Arms around each other tightly.

They don't pay him any mind at all.

 **Two time Grammy Winner Turns Nightmare into Billboard Gold,**

 **Headed to VMAs**

 _There can be absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that Grammy award-winning songwriter Jane Rizzoli has had enough heartache to last several lifetimes. So when her daughter, Constance Grace was nearly the last victim of serial rapist and murderer Garrett Fairfield three years ago, no one could blame the musician for taking some time off to be with her family._

" _Grace and the boys mean everything to her," a close friend of the family told Rolling Stone last week. "She and Maura [Isles, Rizzoli's wife and former principle dancer for NYC Ballet] always make sure that the children come first. They are very family oriented."_

 _Rizzoli & Isles took both 2013 and 2014 off in order spend time helping their daughter, who suffered a mild traumatic brain injury, recuperate, and to focus on their twin boys, Asher & James, who are making quite a name for themselves as soccer legends at their local high school. _

_Rizzoli won a Grammy in 2014 for her collaboration with P!NK on the chart topping song "Just Give Me A Reason." but she was not present to accept the award. P!NK's emotional acceptance speech on her behalf, calling out the realities of sexual violence and judicial corruption, received almost 2.2 million youtube hits in the 48 hours after it was posted._

 _Although no one would hold Rizzoli at fault if she decided to retire from the music industry entirely, this journalist is over the moon to say that both Jane & Maura are back on the scene. Their latest work, a collaboration with Alicia Keys on her new song and video "Holy War" is a phenomenal re-emergence. _

" _I will work with Jane whenever she calls," Keys tweeted last Tuesday, "and it is a double honor to work with the ever spectacular Mdme. Isles. #Coreodream."_

 _The song "Holy War," has been nominated for a Grammy, though the video is also generating some serious VMA buzz._

 _When I reached Jane by telephone, to ask her about her hopes for Holy War's success, her exact words were: "I could not care less. I make music because it is inside of me, not because it wins awards."_

 _When I finally screwed up enough courage to ask if she ever thought about Garrett Fairfield, and the reign of terror he'd managed to hold over her life for the better part of two decades (see article "Keys"), there was a long pause._

" _I'm sorry," Rizzoli said after a moment. "Who?"_


End file.
